A Rizzoli Childhood
by Snafu1000
Summary: What do you get as a birthday gift for a woman who has almost everything? How about the one thing she never had? COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: Still brewing up the last chapter of 'Judge, Jury & Executioner', and before I dive back into the extended angst of 'Sins Of The Fathers', I wanted to do something a bit (ok...a lot) lighter. The humor in the show is one of the greatest draws for me, though you wouldn't know it from the fanfic I've written to date._

_This one will be four, maybe five chapters, and takes place in season 2, somewhere between 'Rebel Without A Pause' and 'Remember Me'. Universe-wise, like 'Crossing Lines', this one can be considered head-canon for any stories I write that take place later in the series timeline._

* * *

"C'mon, Maur!" Detective Jane Rizzoli followed Chief Medical Examiner Maura Isles to her office, allowing the wheedling note in her voice that usually worked on her friend like a charm. "You gotta tell me something!"

Usually, but not today, evidently. Maura simply glanced back at her with an expression of mild exasperation, saying, "I already told you, Jane, I don't need anything."

"But it's your _birthday_!" the detective protested as the doctor picked up a file and began to peruse the contents...or pretended to. Jane Rizzoli knew a dodge when she saw it. "Bad enough that I had to have Frost hack the HR database to find out that it's next freaking _week_!"

"And it was ridiculous of you and Barry to take such a risk to discover something so trivial," Maura countered, ever the voice of reason, but Jane could see the mix of puzzlement and pleasure that the stern expression was meant to hide. She still wasn't used to people doing things for her just _because_...which was one of the reasons that Jane liked doing them. "If you got caught, you could have gotten into trouble!"

"Yeah, well, speaking of trouble," Jane said, dismissing the whole notion of Barry Frost getting caught by the lamebrains in HR. Besides, he hadn't exactly hacked...just distracted the clerk, who had the hots for him, while Jane sneaked a look at Maura's file on the computer, but it sounded cooler the other way. "You really ought to get that Indecent Exposure thing expunged from your record."

"_What_? I've never had a -" Maura's head came up, mortified disbelief etching her features until she caught sight of Jane's cheerful grin. Hazel eyes narrowed into the good doctor's best, 'Was that really necessary?' expression, and the grin only widened. Oh, yes it was.

"Gotcha."

"I ought to report you myself," she grumbled, setting the file aside. She wouldn't, and they both knew it. "It was my privacy you violated."

"By looking up your birthday? Really, Maura?" Jane cocked her head skeptically. "Everybody has them, so I _assumed_ that you did, too, and since you wouldn't just _tell_ me..."

"Because it's just another day," Maura replied with a shrug, "and that is the way I prefer to treat it."

Jane watched her as she spoke: the slight tightness of her mouth and eyes, the set of her shoulders, the way she wouldn't quite meet her friend's gaze, all told a different story, and one that Jane was pretty sure she could guess. "Because that's the way your parents always treated it?" she asked quietly, keeping any hint of censure from her voice.

The stricken look that she received was all the confirmation she needed. "They tried," she answered defensively, moving to her desk and sitting in her chair, taking refuge in the bulwark of her office, her title. "They had friends over for dinner every year -"

"_Their _friends." Because Maura hadn't had any.

"And after I went to boarding school, they always sent presents, cards -"

_But never came to visit._ Jane thought it, but didn't say the words aloud. Tact was not a skill that came naturally to her, but there were certain wounds that you just didn't rub salt into. Mentally, she added it to the list of things to take up with Constance the next time she decided to drop in. Shit, no real birthdays? Were these people even from this planet?

"Well, you're part of the Rizzoli family now, and _we_ do birthdays," she informed her friend. "Big time. Cake from Gino's bakery, big tub of Neapolitan ice cream. Balloons. Pinata. The works, so if you're gonna have the party, you might as well tell me what you want." What the hell did you get a woman who wore Jimmy Choos, looked like a fashion model at crime scenes and whose house belonged in a magazine spread? Who damn near literally had everything?

"I don't need anything, Jane," Maura protested again, "and what I want -" She broke off, shaking her head and looking away. "Is impossible," she said softly.

Sensing an opening, Jane edged around the desk and into her field of vision. "Tell me," she urged.

Maura was silent for a moment, watching her solemnly. "Do you know how lucky you were, growing up the way you did? A real house, with parents who were there to do things like throw birthday parties, and brothers and cousins and friends to play with? Playing." She shook her head bemusedly. "I barely remember playing when I was a child. I don't regret it," she said quickly. Too quickly. "It's made me who I am, but I wonder sometimes, what it would have been like, not always feeling as though I had to try to be worthy of my parents having adopted me. To just _be_. Play. Be a child." She shrugged with a sad little smile. "But I can't change the past, so what I want is to not have a big fuss made about what really is just another day. Please?"

Without waiting for a response, she stood and stepped around Jane and out of the office, leaving the detective staring speculatively after her, the first glimmerings of an idea simmering in her brain.

What did you get a woman who had _almost_ everything?

What she didn't have, what else?

* * *

Maura's birthday fell on a Friday this year which, while not as desirable as being buried in the middle of the work week would have been, was still preferable to having it during a weekend. In years past, she had worked Saturdays or Sundays...sometimes both, to avoid being at home alone with whatever present her parents had sent her.

This year, at least that had been a pleasant surprise. A first edition set of _Elements of Medical Jurisprudence,_ by Dr. Theodric Beck, had been delivered yesterday with a handwritten note from her mother. Generally, her gifts tended to be artwork that, while always tasteful and exquisitely crafted, tended to reflect her own tastes, rather than those of her daughter. It was one of the first acknowledgments of Maura's interests and accomplishments; Jane would be pleased to know that her pointed lecture (Maura still hadn't been able to bring herself to ask for details) had evidently had some effect...even if she would likely have little interest in the two-hundred year old books themselves.

And speaking of Jane, she was late. Maura checked the time with a slight frown. They had to be at work in less than two hours; much later, and they wouldn't have time to go for their run and get showered up afterward, which shouldn't really bother her. They had missed their morning runs before, but -

_But it's my birthday._ She immediately chastised the protest of that inner voice for such silliness. She had told Jane specifically that she did not want a fuss made of her birthday, and the detective had complied, saying nothing of the matter since they'd had their discussion last week.

But just because it was her birthday, she had no intention of hiding out. She would keep to her normal daily routine, and if Jane had run into a delay, she could just run by herself. Satisfied with that decision, she began her stretches, and was interrupted by the tone of an IM arriving on her phone.

_- Change in plans. Not running. Wear your bathing suit under old jeans and a t-shirt. Be there in 10._

She read the message and re-read it. Bathing suit, old jeans and a t-shirt? She checked the sender: yes it was from Jane. She debated calling back to ask what was going on, but she suspected that it would be a waste of time, and...and she didn't want to ruin whatever surprise Jane had in mind. She should have known that her friend would not give up on her birthday, and the realization that she hadn't kindled a spark of anticipation that she attempted to quell. She was thirty-seven years old, for heaven's sake, but she still almost ran up the stairs to change clothes, spending most of the ten minutes in an agony of indecision before texting two words:

_- Which suit?_

_- Something simple._

Simple...that left out most of the swimwear she owned; the beauty was in the design, after all, but she finally settled on a one-piece by Melissa Odabash that seemed to fit the bill, dragging the rest of her clothes on as she heard the door open downstairs.

"Those are old jeans?" Jane eyed her dubiously.

"The oldest I had," she apologized, glancing down at the Antik flare cuts worriedly. "I usually donate my older things to charity at the end of each season -"

"Got it. They'll do." Jane peered at the cuffs, then nodded. "They'll roll up, anyway." The detective was wearing faded jeans with no label and a red t-shirt, her dark hair tied back, no makeup and hints of a mischievous grin dancing at the corners of her mouth and gleaming in her eyes. "Put these on."

Maura accepted the navy canvas and rubber shoes, glancing down at the red pair on Jane's feet. "Jane, these have absolutely nothing in the way of arch support! What is wrong with my -"

"Do you trust me?"

The question did not even require thought. "Of course."

"Then put them on. They're exactly what you need to be wearing for this."

"For what?" she asked as she bent to slip the shoes on and tie them. 'Keds', read the label on the completely inadequate insoles, and that sounded vaguely familiar...

"A Rizzoli family childhood," Jane announced briskly. "Abbreviated version, but that means you miss the spankings, the groundings and Uncle Don's bad John Wayne impersonations at family dinners." She was speaking quickly, trying to be flippant, but not quite covering the nervousness.

"What?" She stared up at her friend, trying to make sense of what she was saying. "Jane -"

"Look, just go with it. If you hate it, we can cut out at lunch and I'll take you to a matinee of Magic Mike or something, okay?"

"I don't even know what 'it' is," she exclaimed with a trace of exasperation, despite the persistent sense of anticipation.

"Show, not tell," Jane replied, tossing her purse onto the couch, tucking a few folded bills into one of her white crew socks, and tying the key to Maura's house into the laces of her Keds. "You, too. No purse."

Maura stopped, staring at her as if she had suggested they go outside naked. "No purse?"

Jane gave her a wicked grin, knowing exactly what she was asking. "That's right. No purse. No makeup. No wallet or credit cards. You won't need it anyway." She patted the sock she'd stashed the bills in. "Your birthday, my treat."

"But – but how am I going to drive without my keys, my license?"

"We're taking the bus," Jane explained with a roll of her eyes. "I got us all day passes, and there's a stop about half a mile up the street. We used to go all over the city that way." She passed Maura one armband, fastened the other around her left wrist.

"You're not even taking your gun?" This was surely proof that she had fallen into an alternate dimension, if such things were actually possible.

"Nope." The detective didn't seem overly concerned. "If we get mugged, we'll just have to rely on my kickass hand-to-hand skills. Besides," she spread her arms, looking down at herself, "do we look like we've got anything worth stealing? Once you take off the Cartier watch, I mean."

"Jane, we're supposed to be at work in two hours!"

"Nope. Already cleared it with Cavanaugh, and Pike's on duty today. We're both free until Monday."

"Your idea of a birthday present is making me spend two days clearing up Dr. Pike's mistakes when I get back?" Maura eyed her skeptically, but she was already opening the clasp on her watch, slipping it over her wrist and setting it on the coffee table.

Jane shrugged, unconcerned. "You can do that in your sleep. Now change your shoes, and let's get going."

Maura sat on the couch, untying her running shoes, which would, in her opinion, be perfectly suited to a day of wandering Boston. The Keds, on the other hand - "Jane, these shoes aren't even practical!" She wasn't even going to address their fashion deficiencies.

"Kids aren't practical, Maur," Jane countered. "Besides that, they're great for climbing trees."

"Climbing trees?"

* * *

_I've got a few scenarios in mind, but I'd be interested in hearing from anyone else who remembers growing up in the days before cable TV, the internet & Nintendo/Xbox/Wii regarding childhood experiences that Jane can drag Maura through. Appropriate credit/thanks will be given, with bonus points if it's something specific to the Boston area._


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: My thanks for the great response to this idea! Simahoyo, LG, The Watcher, Mechabiera, Paz23, wonderwoman808, dsfeo78, cajunghost, cstarj, zigpal, MJL12 & cenica007: all suggestions were appreciated, and I'll try to incorporate as many as I can!_

_I have a lot of fond memories of my childhood; planning this story stirred up a lot, and the stuff that you all shared stirred up even more, so thanks!_

* * *

"It's magnificent." Maura stood beneath the spreading branches of the towering _Quercus velutina, _peering upward through the canopy. "It must be two-hundred years old or more. Did you know that the oldest oak trees in North America are estimated at 1500 years?"

"Nope." Jane was already finding hand and footholds in the knobby bark of the trunk and pulling herself up to where the lower branches began to fork outward. "This was my favorite tree to climb when I was a kid; broke my arm falling out of it once."

"That's not exactly a selling point." Maura glanced around the park, wondering if climbing trees was permitted. It seemed as though it would pose a liability risk, but there were no park rangers or signs.

"I was trying to see how high I could go," Jane replied, as if that explained everything...which in her case, it probably did. She paused, looking back down at her friend. "Let me guess: little Maura Isles never got hurt at all?"

"I...burned myself when I was sterilizing a test tube with a Bunsen burner once," Maura replied defensively. She thought a bit more and brightened. "And I sprained my wrist when I fell off my horse in dressage!"

"Uh-huh." One dark eyebrow quirked upward, considering. "English saddle or western?"

Maura blinked, wondering what on earth that had to do with it. "English saddles are required for dressage, of course."

"Of course," Jane echoed with a roll of her eyes. "Guess that'll have to do, then. C'mon." She turned back, continuing her upward climb, and after a last moment of hesitation, Maura followed. The bark was rough against her skin, but the tree itself felt reassuringly solid, bearing their weight without even a creak of protest. Above her, Jane climbed boldly, without a hint of fear, hands and feet moving unerringly from branch to branch.

Maura moved carefully, always making certain that her footing was sure before moving upward once more. A breeze that hadn't been felt at ground level moved through the leaves, and she turned her head into it appreciatively.

"Nice, huh?" Jane had stopped, stretched out along a branch and looking back at her. "It's even cooler up higher, but I weigh more than I did then."

"It's very nice." Maura smiled, letting her weight rest along the branch she was on, closing her eyes and letting the wind move across her skin, the whisper of the leaves a gentle murmur in her ears. Voices rose in the morning air, and she opened her eyes, watching people walking below, apparently unaware of their presence overhead. "That branch right below us is almost perfectly horizontal. It would be perfect for sitting on."

"It would be," Jane agreed, stretching one arm downward and extending her index finger, "but it's already occupied."

Following Jane's point, Maura felt her smile widen in delight as she found herself staring at bright black eyes and wide yellow beaks: three half grown _Turdus migratorius_ fledgelings, watching solemnly from their nest.

* * *

The hill looked very steep, though it didn't seem to deter the dozen or so children who were sliding down it on sheets of cardboard, then climbing back up to do it again.

"It's easy," Jane said, handing her one of the two flattened cardboard boxes that five dollars from her sock had leased from their owners for half an hour. "Not as much fun as in the winter when there's snow, but the grass works well enough. Watch."

Taking three running steps, the detective tossed the cardboard to the ground at the top of the hill and dropped to her knees on it with a whoop, the momentum carrying her forward and down the hill at a surprising rate of speed. As the slope of the hill lessened, the makeshift sled gradually slowed, then stopped, and Jane rolled off of it and onto her feet effortlessly, calling back up the hill, "Now you!"

Taking a deep breath, Maura stuck the cardboard out in front of her, stepped up to the top of the slope, placed it on the ground, settled to her knees on top of it and pushed off with her hands. She slid perhaps two feet, then stopped, earning a chorus of giggles from the children who had apparently decided that watching was more entertaining than doing for the moment.

"You gotta get a running start, ma'am," offered one of the boys who had rented them the cardboard, a towheaded boy of about ten with blue eyes, freckles and a gap where one of his front teeth had been.

"He's right, Maur," Jane agreed as she reached the top of the hill. "There's nothing to be afraid of."

"I'm not afraid!" Maura retorted. "There is a difference between fear and caution!"

"And there's a time for caution, and this ain't it," Jane countered, giving her best 'dare-you' grin. "We'll do it together, all right? On three. One...two...three!"

She threw herself forward without looking to see, confident that Maura would follow, which she did: running forward, she mimicked Jane's actions, tossing the cardboard onto the ground and throwing herself onto her knees, and just like that, she was zooming down the hill, her hair flying behind her.

"I'm doing it!" she called out, exhilaration flooding through her . "Jane, I'm doing it!"

Jane glanced over her shoulder, her encouraging smile shifting to sudden alarm. "Maura, look -"

As bumps on the ground went, it wasn't much; an experienced sledder would likely have taken it without difficulty, but it was large enough to send the flimsy platform airborne for a second, at which point it parted ways with its passenger, leaving Dr. Isles to finish the journey in an undignified tumble.

"Maura!" Jane came on the run, dropping to the ground beside her. "Shit, are you all right?"

"Language, Jane," Maura mumbled, spitting out a few stray blades of grass as she pushed herself up. "There are children present. I'm fine." She paused to perform a quick evaluation of the accuracy of the statement. One knee of her hundred-dollar jeans was torn, and there was a slight scrape on the skin beneath, but it barely qualified as an abrasion. Grass stains on her elbows, and she'd likely have a bruise or two, but there were definitely no broken bones, and the little pain that she might otherwise have felt lost beneath the surge of adrenaline and endorphins.

"I'm fine," she repeated, more confidently this time, smiling up into her friend's worried face. "Come on. I want to try again."


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: Thanks again for the fantastic response, the reviews and the suggestions! _

* * *

"About time," Frankie called out as Jane held back the chainlink fencing for Maura, then ducked through behind her. "Not all of us have the whole day off."

"Cry me a river," Jane shot back, easily catching the basketball that Tommy fired at her. They had spent a couple of hours wandering through the Franklin Park Zoo. Maura had dim memories of visiting the zoo with her parents, before they had moved to France, but where her parents had told her about each species' scientific nomenclature, Jane knew them all by name: Kit, the magnificent silverback who was the ranking male in the lowland gorilla troop; Beau and Jana, the giraffes; Anala and Luther, the rescued tigers. Instead of lectures on natural behavior and habitat, Jane had no end of stories of Frankie getting his popcorn stolen by an ostrich and Angela having a fit when she found Tommy with his arm in the mouth of the donkey in the petting zoo. Their midmorning snack had been soft pretzels dipped in melted cheese and a shared funnel cake: indulgences that had been too unhealthy for her parents to even consider, but which had tasted absolutely wonderful.

"What the hell happened to your shirt?" Tommy asked his sister, eying the pale smears on the shoulder of the red t-shirt.

"Budgie bombs!" Frankie crowed gleefully. "Janie got bombed!"

"Well, you weren't there, and they had to crap somewhere," Jane replied, though she hadn't been nearly as complacent when the Australian budgerigar that Maura had been feeding from a seed-covered stick had taken flight and speckled her with feces in passing. She'd made almost as much noise as the birds, even after the worst of the mess had been cleaned up. "At least they missed my hair. Let's get this started," she added, bouncing the ball on the cracked asphalt twice before passing it to Frankie. "You and Maura, me and Tommy. First to ten points wins."

"Best two out of three?" Frankie wanted to know. "Because it's not gonna take me long to get by the boy wonder there."

"It's me you gotta worry about," Jane replied with a grin as Tommy sent a rude gesture in his brother's direction. "But best two out of three works."

"Shirts and skins?" Tommy asked, directing a sly grin at Maura as he added, "Jane and me'll be shirts – ooww!" His sister had reached out and slapped him on the back of the head as she strode toward the slightly-askew backboard and the bare metal ring of the hoop.

"Hey, Frankie, the dent your head made is still here!" she called out, pointing at the rusted steel pole that supported the backboard. There were any number of dents visible, but Maura simply couldn't see how a human skull could have made any of them.

"Ha-ha." Frankie glared at Jane. "My forehead still has the scar from the stitches," he replied, brushing his hair back to show a thin, pale line of scar tissue at the hairline.

"Illegal holding, bro," Jane responded, looking completely unrepentant. "A penalty's a penalty."

"The real penalty was when Ma saw Frankie," Tommy informed Maura. "Bled like asonofabitch and he was drippin' all over the carpet. Jane was grounded for a month, and that was _after_ Pop busted her ass."

"Keep in mind that Pop's not around to bust my ass," Jane reminded him, "so I'd better not see you trying any 'illegal holding' on her."

"Whose team are you on?" Tommy demanded, looking indignant.

"Yours, unfortunately."

It had long been a standing joke among the siblings that Tommy's lack of athletic skill was due to his preoccupation with the female of the species: he'd spent his junior high and high school years chasing girls, giving sports only the barest attention. Maura had thought that was why Jane had paired her with Frankie, but it quickly became obvious that there was another reason.

Basketball in the Rizzoli family was a full contact sport, with body checks and jabbing elbows dispensed freely along with taunts and insults. Despite Tommy's flirting, he didn't use the game as an excuse for touching her, however; he was almost _too_ careful, a fact made quite apparent by his lack of restraint with his brother. Jane _didn't_ take it easy on her, and while she wasn't as boisterous as she was against Frankie, she didn't hesitate to get into Maura's face, shoving, jostling and goading her with a grin that dared the doctor to match her.

Her memories of team sports were not among her favorites: phys ed class, picked last again, her 'teammates' unhappy at being stuck with 'Maura the Bore-a' and the other team quite happy to have an easy target. Being shoved, tripped, 'accidentally' hit with the ball. Angry jeers at every mistake she made, and no one who would tell her what she was _supposed_ to be doing. She had wondered on occasion what it would have been like to have had a friend like Jane back then, but she had never allowed herself to dwell for long on a question that it seemed there could be no real answer to.

She knew now: it would have been like this. Jane pushing her, teaching her, daring her, even while she protected her from any real harm. The detective sent her stumbling sideways and stole the ball, dribbled a few steps and took aim at the hoop. Maura recovered her balance and charged, slamming into Jane with more force than she had intended, just as she had stretched up for the shot. Jane went sprawling onto the asphalt, and the ball spun up into the air, coming down into Maura's outstretched hands.

"Way to go, Maura!" Frankie cheered. "Take the shot!"

Maura didn't move. Jane was rolling to her hands and knees; her palms and elbows had been scraped by the asphalt, and there was a tear in the leg of her jeans that hadn't been there before. "Jane, I'm so -"

"You heard him!" Jane was laughing, dark eyes dancing with exhilaration and a delighted pride. "Shoot!" She never slowed in scrambling to her feet, and Maura knew that once she was up, she'd be coming to reclaim the ball. She turned, her eyes falling on the battered metal hoop, no time for calculating trajectory, and took the shot. The ball curved upward, then down, hitting the rim and tottering there for an endless moment before tipping and rolling inward, through the hoop.

"Yeah!" Frankie caught her in an exuberant hug. "We win!" He had made the previous nine baskets, while Jane had accounted for seven of the nine that she and Tommy had scored, but Maura's had been the winning shot, and when her eyes sought out Jane, arm draped around Tommy's shoulders, both of them were grinning at her like she had just made the winning basket in the World Series. No, wait...that was baseball, wasn't it?

"Best two out of three," Jane called out, giving Maura a thumbs-up as she moved to retrieve the ball. "Time for the tiebreaker! Loser buys lunch!"

* * *

The pizza was...edible: the crust doughy and not quite baked through, the sauce tasting a bit like ketchup, chunks of pepperoni and sausage floating in a sea of melted cheese and grease, but the pizza, all three Rizzoli siblings assured her, was _not_ the point of Pizza-palooza.

"This was _the_ spot for birthday parties," Tommy told her as they followed Jane away from the booth where she had bought a double handful of brass tokens (after Frankie had paid for lunch). He had to nearly shout to be heard over the din of music, sound effects from countless games in progress and the clamor of well over a hundred children, ranging in ages from less than a year to late teens. The younger children were concentrated in a playground area made up of colorful tubes, nylon netting and pits filled with hundreds of plastic balls. She eyed it thoughtfully. It did look like fun, but...

"You don't want to do that," Jane warned her, ignoring the pained look that her youngest sibling was shooting her. "I stopped playing in there the day Tommy came out without his diaper and told Ma that he pooed by himself."

"They had to clear out the whole thing," Frankie put in with a grin. "And when they pulled out the balls, they found out that Tommy wasn't the only one doin' his business in there...he was just the only one who admitted it!"

"Oh, my God!" Maura stared at the ball pit in horror, wondering what possessed the parents who let their children play in there.

"They watch it a lot more closely now," Jane said, nodding toward a monitor seated at the edge of the pit, "but still..." She shrugged and wrinkled her nose. Tommy's face was beet red.

"How come you never tell about Ma catching Frankie taking a whiz on Missus Peebly's prize rosebushes?" he wanted to know.

"I was getting to that," Jane assured him, shooting a sly glance at her other brother.

"If we're going there, she's gotta hear about _you_ getting caught playing doctor with Joey Grant!" Frankie fired back.

"Joey Grant?" Maura exclaimed, looking in surprise at her friend, whose face was on its way to matching Tommy's. "_Lieutenant_ Grant?"

"We were six!" Jane snapped. "And at least I was housebroken! C'mon, Maur."

"Did you really want to be a doctor when you were six?" Maura wanted to know as she followed the detective away from the ball pit. "So did I!"

That familiar look of patient, resigned disbelief. "Really, Maura?" Jane sighed. "It's a euphemism. We weren't really playing doctor; we were just comparing anatomy. I mean, I had two little brothers, so I already knew, but Joey didn't have any sisters, and he didn't believe me when I told him we didn't have the same equipment." She shrugged, a little smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. "So I showed him...and then he wanted to show me his...and then our mothers found us."

Maura couldn't help but giggle; she could well imagine Angela's reaction. "Curiosity regarding gender differences is quite normal at that age," she offered, "but...Lieutenant Grant?"

"He wasn't a lieutenant then!" Jane exclaimed in exasperation. "He was a little brat, and I'm pretty sure he did it just to get me in trouble." She stopped in front of one of the games, a large box with half a dozen holes in the top and 'Whack-A-Mole' painted in bright letters on the side. "So, you've heard our embarrassing stories from childhood," she went on, feeding a token into the slot on the side and taking up a padded mallet that was secured to the frame by a length of vinyl-coated steel cable. "Let's hear yours."

Distracted by Jane's words, Maura was taken by surprise when a small, furry head popped out of one of the holes, and she jumped a bit when Jane brought the mallet down smartly on the head. A moment later, another head popped out of another hole and the action was repeated. The name made sense now. Jane's eyes were fixed on the table, but Maura could tell that she was waiting for a reply.

"Well," she began, watching the game. The animatronic 'moles' were evidently controlled by an algorithm that raised them in a random sequence, making it a matter of reflexes and eye-hand coordination, two areas where Jane excelled. The digital score readout climbed steadily. The stories that Jane and her brothers had recounted involved involved normal developmental moments that taught children the appropriate social boundaries, but sometimes it seemed to Maura that she had been born with those boundaries etched into her mind, while others remained frustratingly just beyond ready comprehension. Certainly, she could never recall having the urge to urinate or defecate anywhere but in the appropriate location, and 'playing doctor' had involved a doll clinic where she had imitated the ongoing World Health Organization effort to eradicate smallpox.

"We visited one of my mother's artist friends in France once," she admitted after a bit of thought. "He had a little farm a few hours outside of Paris where he created the most incredible Impressionist paintings. Not that I really appreciated them then, of course; I was only four or five -"

"Maur." Jane's eyes flicked back up to her once, then back down as the cycle of mole whacking began again, faster this time.

"Sorry," the doctor said sheepishly. "She had a little coop with half a dozen hens, and I wanted to see how they laid eggs, so I snuck into the henhouse to watch them. I lost track of time, and when I came out, I found out that my parents had been looking for me for hours. They were quite upset with me."

Another quick glance from the dark eyes, one eyebrow quirked expressively before dropping as a bell signaled the start of the next round, the heads popping up and down even more quickly.

"So-"

_WHACK_

"you spent"

_WHACK_

"an afternoon"

_WHACKWHACK_

"staring at"

_WHACKWHACKWHACK_

"chicken butts?"

_WHACK - "_Damn," Jane muttered as the last head disappeared just before she could hit it. She bent to retrieve a long strip of tickets and straightened, a hint of an affectionate smile on her face as she folded the tickets into a more manageable length. "Why am I not surprised? Did you at least get to see an egg being laid?"

"As a matter of fact, I did," Maura replied smugly, well aware of how rare that level of patience was in that age group. Then she grimaced. "But it did take most of the evening to get the feathers and straw and – everything else out of my hair. My nanny had to wash it three times." She fell silent. After the initial scolding, Constance had turned her over to Carlotta for the cleanup, and it had been the _au pair_ who had listened to her telling what she had learned that day, Carlotta who had tucked her into bed with a kiss and a hug, but Carlotta had been replaced the next day for having lost track of her charge.

"Hey." A gentle nudge brought her out of her reverie to find Jane watching her. She didn't press, just held out a handful of tokens. "Want to give it a try?" she invited, nodding toward the game.

"Sure." Dismissing the brooding thoughts to their place in the past, she took up the padded mallet, hefting it experimentally, testing the balance before feeding a token into the slot. Her reflexes weren't as quick as Jane's, but her eye-hand coordination was excellent, and by her third token, she was connecting with most of her strikes and had amassed a small collection of her own tickets.

"What are they used for?" she asked as she folded them up and tucked them into a pocket of her jeans. Odd, but she'd not really missed having to keep track of a purse today.

Jane pointed across the game floor to a counter surrounded by children. Toys and inexpensive t-shirts and hats lined the shelves, and stuffed animals hung on wires from the ceiling. "You can get candy and cheap crap like molded erasers for a few tickets, but the cool stuff you gotta save up for. That," she pointed to a giant stuffed panda, "is ten-thousand tickets, and they've got a Tom Brady bobblehead for five thousand. They used to have a Walkman for twenty thousand...probably replaced that with a cheap MP3 player now."

"Twenty thousand?" Maura stared at the scant dozen tickets she'd managed to earn so far. Even with Jane's added, they had considerably less than a hundred.

"And they probably cost them a buck fifty, tops," Jane confirmed, quirking a smile and shrugging. "I tried saving up for the big stuff a couple of times, but I'd always wind up blowing it on candy. But it was fun to get the tickets."

"Hey, Maura, check it out!" She turned to see Tommy and Frankie standing in front of a bank of ramps leading up to a row of concentric rings with holes. Tommy turned, snatching battered wooden balls from the return and sending them rolling up the ramp in front of him in swift succession. The first three launched from the top of the ramp and sailed into the highest – and smallest – ring as though drawn by a magnet; the fourth slid off the rim and dropped down into the ring beneath.

"Losing your touch?" Jane called out.

"Just getting' warmed up," he replied with a cocky grin, proving it by sending the final balls unerringly to the top ring.

"Skeeball was always his game," Jane said, amusement and more than a trace of sisterly pride gleaming in her eyes as he bent to retrieve his tickets and fed another token into the slot, gesturing for Frankie to do the same at the neighboring ramp. "And Frankie'll make up for it by kicking his ass at the hoops," she added, nodding toward a row of gleaming white basketball backboards with hoops and nets.

"They all give tickets?" Maura wanted to know.

"All of 'em," Jane confirmed, sweeping her hand in an encompassing gesture.

"Which one are you best at?"

"I'm not bad at skeeball," the detective replied, "but the Whack-A-Mole was always my favorite. There's plenty of other stuff, though. What do you want to try?"

Maura glanced around, entranced by the bright colors, the lights, the music, the vibrant energy of the environment. "All of it?" she offered with a shy smile.

"Works for me," came the immediate reply. They spent the next half hour trying one game after another. A few were purely games of chance, but most of them relied at least in part on skill and a certain degree of physical coordination: easy to learn, but difficult to master. In the end, they wound up playing skeeball, simply because it was one of the few games that could accommodate all four of them.

"I got two-hundred and three," Tommy announced smugly, holding up a thick stack of folded tickets.

"One ninety," Jane put in. The competition between she and Tommy had been both friendly and rowdy, but Maura was almost certain she'd seen her friend flub a throw or two on purpose.

"One seventy six," Frankie growled. "Next time, we play the hoops and see who wins."

"Why not now?" Tommy challenged him.

"Because I gotta get back to work, and you've got that job interview at three, don't you?"

"Well, yeah." Tommy shrugged. "But it's just a delivery job for a florist."

"Hey." Jane caught his elbow, turning him until they were eye to eye. "It's a start, right?"

"Yeah." He squirmed a bit, dropping his eyes. "Not much of a start, though."

"So you kick it in the ass and move on to something better, right Frankie?" Jane looked to their brother, who nodded.

"Sure. You can do this job standing on your head, bro." Frankie reached out, clapping Tommy on the shoulder. "You know this town like the back of your hand. You just gotta show them what you can do."

Tommy offered a weak smile, looking anywhere but at Maura. "I know."

"I'm sure that you'll do wonderfully in the interview, Tommy," she told him encouragingly. "And the job itself is well within your capabilities."

His smile grew stronger. "Yeah?" He straightened, nodded decisively. "Yeah. I better get going, get cleaned up." He hesitated, then pressed his tickets into Maura's hand. "Happy birthday. It ain't much, but it oughtta get a t-shirt or something." He was gone before she could thank him.

"I'd better get going, too," Frankie said, glancing at Jane. "Korsak's still gonna be a reference for him?"

Jane nodded, the concern that she hadn't shown in Tommy's presence hazing her dark eyes. "Yeah."

"All right, then." Frankie nodded. "He can do this."

"He can," Jane agreed, the question unspoken as she met her brother's eyes: _But will he?_

"Here." Frankie added his own tickets to the ones that Tommy had given Maura, along with a quick hug that Tommy hadn't dared to offer. "I've already got a t-shirt. Happy birthday."

"I always wanted siblings," she offered after he had left.

"They're a mixed blessing," Jane sighed. "Sometimes I don't know whether to hug him or kick his ass."

Maura didn't need to ask which brother she was talking about. "You let him win, didn't you?"

Jane snorted. "_Let _him win? No way!" Maura's gaze held steady on her, and a faint flush touched her cheeks. "It was the first time he's been able to play since he was paroled, all right? He needed a boost ahead of that interview. C'mon." Her fingers caught Maura's wrist, tugging her toward the prize counter. "All the tickets combined ought to get you a t-shirt and a ball cap."

* * *

_A.N. - Specific shout-outs to: Mechabiera for pick-up ball games in a tetanus-laden environment; dsfeo78 for bringing Tommy & Frankie into the mix; zigpal & cstarj for the carnival/Chuck E. Cheeses (combined here into the fictional Pizza-palooza. Think it was Showbiz Pizza when I was a kid); Simahoyo for the zoo. Thanks again to everyone for sharing the great memories!_

_Maura's chicken house adventure is based upon the childhood experiences of another well-known female scientist. Anyone know who?  
_


	4. Chapter 4

"But I don't understand." Maura turned to look at Jane quizzically. "What does Marco Polo have to do with it?"

The detective put her hands on Maura's shoulders and turned her until they were eye to eye. "It's just the way the game is played," she said patiently. "You close your eyes and yell 'Marco' -"

"- and the rest of you shout 'Polo'," Maura finished for her, "and I use that as a means of acoustic location, since my eyes are closed. I understand that part." They were waist deep in the chlorinated water of a public pool and surrounded by ten-year-olds who were following the conversation with a mixture of impatience and puzzled amusement. "I just find it fascinating that the name of a fourteenth century explorer has found its way into a children's game, and I was wondering why -"

"I have no idea." Jane enunciated slowly, shaking her head just as slowly. "That's the way the game is played. That's the way the game has always been played. We don't ask why. We just play, right?" Nodding slowly now, and Maura mirrored the gesture, closing her eyes and feeling more than a little foolish...and more than a little nervous.

She was a grown woman; these children couldn't harm her, but the laughter of children appeared seldom in her childhood memories, and almost never in a positive context. With her eyes closed, those sounds: laughs, shouts, squeals of glee, grew in prominence. And what must the adults think? Two of the mothers were high school friends of Jane, which was why the detective had been able to arrange for them to join in the game. They had to look ridiculous: two adults in the middle of a group of children. They'd left their t-shirts on over their bathing suits (she'd exchanged the unadorned shirt she'd chosen at home for the Pizza-Palooza shirt that their combined tickets had purchased, and regardless of its simplicity, the Melissa Odabash suit was simply not appropriate attire for playing with children), but it still had to look strange, and if they'd been males, it would have been considered sinister. Odd, the inequality of perceptions based upon gender, though it was a proven statistic that sexual predators were predominantly male, it didn't seem fair -

"Maur." Jane's gentle but pointed reminder brought her thoughts back to the matter at hand, and a mixture of titters and discontented mutters around her made her heart rate accelerate slightly. Maura the Bore-a messing up again. Her nerve almost failed her; she almost opened her eyes and told Jane that this was an experience she could skip. She drew a deep breath, let it out, willing her anxiety to settle. It was just a child's game.

"Marco?" The word came out almost as a question.

"_POLO!_" The shouts erupted all around her, Jane's husky alto easy to pick out among the higher pitched voices of the other players. She moved toward the sound, arms outstretched, and the stillness in the waist-deep water was interrupted by turbulence as they all moved to evade her.

"Marco."

"Polo!" To her right now. She turned, intent on the directional indicators. Sound waves, water waves: both traveled in a line from the point of origin.

"Marco." Her voice stronger now, more sure.

"Polo!" Jane's voice to her left now, and close. She turned and lunged, encountering only water, and laughter rose around her, but there was no cruelty to the sound, no mocking lilt: only the high, pure sound of children having fun, along with Jane's throaty chuckles, and she felt her smile returning.

"Marco!"

"Polo!" Directly behind her. She spun, and her hand came down on a bare shoulder. She opened her eyes to find Jane standing behind a boy with a shock of red hair and a sunburned face liberally dusted with freckles, both of them grinning at her.

"Gotcha."

* * *

"There. A running horse. See it?"

Maura followed Jane's finger, studying the shape of the stratocumulus formation overhead. They were laying side by side in the grass of the Boston Public Garden, a short distance away from the Make Way For Ducklings statues. The Rizzoli family had been present at the dedication ceremony in 1987; seven-year-old Tommy had climbed all over the bronze sculptures much as dozens of children were doing now.

She squinted her eyes, but the clouds were reshaping themselves, the arch of the poll and withers narrowing, extending... "Actually, now it looks more like the human alimentary tract, from just cranial to the esophageal sphincter to the cecocolic junction. Not _in situ_, of course, but if it were extruded to examine the contents of the small intestine...and of course, the length of the small intestine isn't proportional...no, never mind...it's gone now."

Jane's head turned, one dark eyebrow arched. "Really, Maur? Guts in the sky?"

"Well, that's what it looked like," she replied defensively, turning her eyes back upward. "There!" She pointed. "That one looks like Bass sticking his head out of his shell! Do you see it?"

"Yeah," Jane said after a short pause. "Yeah, I do. How about...that one?"

Maura shifted her gaze, trying _not_ to think like a medical examiner. "It looks like... Mickey Mouse! See his ears?"

"Very good, Dr. Isles," Jane said approvingly. "Check out that one...it looks like – ice cream man!"

Maura blinked, frowning and squinting harder. "Really? I thought it looked like a cat."

Jane had already rolled and scrambled upright. "No, the ice cream man." She held out a hand to pull Maura to her feet, gesturing toward the street with her free hand, and now Maura registered the clang of a bell, along with a distinct change in the pitch of the cries of the children.

By the time they reached the brightly painted van, it was surrounded. Jane waded in, returning shortly with two wrapped packages. "Bomb pop or fudge bomb?"

"Bomb pop?" Maura eyed the wrappings, looking for a clue. "Don't you find it interesting that so much marketing targeting children makes use of the images and icons of war? Bazooka bubble gum? GI Joe?"

"Right. Fudge bomb." Jane passed her one of the packages and opened her own to reveal a red, white and blue popsicle that looked more like a rocket than a bomb. Maura's snack looked similar, but seemed to be chocolate. She gave it an experimental lick. Not Godiva or Lindt...or even Hershey's, but not bad, though it was already starting to melt in the summer heat.

"Did you get any napkins?" She tipped her hand, trying to redirect the drip.

"Nope. We never used them." Jane lifted her arm, licking a colorful stream of melt that had run from wrist almost to her elbow. "This always worked."

"How did you survive childhood?" She caught her own drip before it reached her wrist. She'd washed her hands whenever they'd been near soap and running water, but that hadn't been often today. The potential for fomite transmission of infectious organisms was boundless; even without the ball pit swarming with fecal coliforms, the games at Pizza-Palooza had to have been teeming with bacteria, to say nothing of the potential for zoonotic organisms at the zoo.

"By constantly challenging my immune system," Jane replied promptly, catching another drip. "Drank water straight from the hose, kissed the dog, ate mud. Don't knock it," she added, seeing Maura's expression. "You ever seen Frankie or me sick?"

"You...do have a point.". The Rizzoli siblings were quite healthy, and the concept of strengthening the immune system through reasonable challenge, particularly during childhood years, was one that was widely accepted as valid in many scientific circles, but...eating mud? "I'll skip the last, if that's all right." She licked up another drip that had reached the middle of her forearm, feeling quite brave. Drinking water from a hose didn't sound so awful, and she could see herself kissing Jo Friday, who was quite a clean dog.

Jane snorted. "You won't be missing much. I did that on a dare."

"Why am I not surprised?"

* * *

"Now aren't you glad you didn't wear the two-hundred dollar running shoes?"

"I could have taken them off."

Jane shook her head, taking a step in the water and bending suddenly, scooping up water in cupped hands. "Not an option. Even when I was a kid, we had to worry about broken glass in this creek." She peered into her hands. "Missed," she muttered, releasing the water and moving forward again.

"Well, the Keds really are surprisingly comfortable." The sturdy but simple canvas and rubber shoes had held up well during the day's travels and certainly wouldn't be damaged by immersion in the muddy water. She mimicked Jane's stance, her jeans rolled up to her knees and her eyes on the tiny, dark shapes swimming around their calves. "Did you know that tadpoles are an excellent sentinel for environmental pollutants? Their genetic structure is so fragile that any teratogenic substances will cause mutations: extra legs, tails, that sort of thing. It's been documented in several studies."

"I knew I shouldn't have let those subscriptions lapse," Jane muttered, not lifting her eyes from the creek. She scooped up another double handful. "Ha! Got two!" She held out her hands, showing them to Maura proudly.

"What did you do with them?" Maura wanted to know.

"Took them home, let them grow into frogs," Jane replied. "I had a fish bowl in my room...at least I did until one of the frogs got out and Ma found it while she was taking a shower."

She had to laugh. She could easily picture Angela's reaction...and she had no idea how her own mother might have responded. What did that mean? Rather than ponder that, she bent and scooped at the water. "I got one, too!" she exclaimed excitedly, then took a closer look. "Oh, my goodness, Jane, this one has two tails!"

"What? No way!" Jane leaned forward with an expression that was half skeptical, half morbid fascination. Suddenly, her eyes widened. "Jesus!" she screeched, launching herself out of the water with a speed that would not have precluded teleportation, falling on her ass on the bank.

Maura glanced from the tadpole to the detective in puzzlement. "Jane, while this might be indicative of pollution, I strongly doubt that our short exposure is anything to be alarmed about."

"Not that." Jane was actually pale as she pointed a finger at the water behind Maura. "Snake! Snake!"

Turning, Maura realized what had spooked her: a _Nerodia sipidon_ coiled in the plants. "It's just a water snake, Jane. They're not poisonous. This one isn't even that big; they can reach lengths of over four feet." She stepped closer carefully, then bent swiftly, catching it right behind the head and supporting the rest of its foot-long body with her free hand as she turned back to Jane. "See? Harmless."

"Thank you, Marlin Perkins," Jane shot back, scooting further away on her heels and the palms of her hands. "Just...let it go. I'm sure its mother will be worried."

"Snakes do not exhibit maternal behaviors toward their young, Jane." It was odd enough seeing the brash detective show fear of anything, but such a tiny, nonvenomous snake? She took another step forward, and Jane scooted back a corresponding distance, her eyes never leaving the snake. Maura looked between detective and snake, feeling a sudden sense of mischief awakening, as much a surprise as any other event of the day.

"Maur," Jane began warningly as she advanced again. "What are you doing? You know I don't like snakes! Maura!" She scrambled to her feet, still backing away. "I swear, I'm gonna..._Maur_!"

Undoubtedly, Jane knew her neuroses well enough to devise some suitably devious retribution in the not too distant future. The thought actually had an odd sort of appeal. Another step, and Jane let out a squeal that Frost and Korsak would never have let her live down, turned and ran with Maura and the snake in close pursuit.

* * *

_All right, one more chapter to go. Thanks again to all of you who have reviewed and shared their childhood memories!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Last chapter! Special thanks to those of you who shared memories of your own childhood and offered suggestions: cenica007, MJL12, Jobee24, Jaik, afret2010, T, zigpal, cajunghost, dsfeo78, wonderwoman808, Paz23, Mechabeira, The Watcher, LG, Simahoyo, bigbrouhaha, crispyknight89, halfbadgirl, BarbaraAnn, & JustMindingMyBusiness. I wish I'd had time to include everything, but I wanted to keep this as a short story._

* * *

It was fortunate that the bus stop was only half a mile from Maura's house, because she couldn't remember the last time she'd been so tired. She'd actually fallen asleep during the bus ride, her head tipped onto Jane's shoulder, and the last hundred yards to the door felt like several times that distance. Her feet were sore, the muscles in her legs ached, and the burning heat across her nose and cheeks reminded her belatedly that she had neglected to apply sunscreen before they'd left.

And yet, she couldn't stop smiling.

"I had a wonderful time today," she said as they approached her house, Jane's car still in the driveway. "Thank you." She failed to lift her foot high enough and stumbled over the curb, and the detective quickly steadied her with an arm around her waist and a hand beneath her elbow.

"Steady, there," Jane murmured, stepping away once she had ensured that the doctor wasn't going to tip over. "And you're welcome. I'm glad you had a good time. I was worried that you might think it was too corny."

"Not at all. It was fantastic. I can't believe you did all that when you were a child." She'd been on numerous walking tours of Boston, but she'd seen it today from an entirely new perspective, and the city was hers now, home in a way that it hadn't been before.

"Not usually all in one day," Jane admitted with a weary smile. She was dragging, too, and Maura was torn between sympathy for her friend's obvious fatigue and not wanting the day to end just yet.

"Did you want to stay for dinner?" she offered as they climbed the steps to the door. "We can order Thai...or anything else that sounds good."

Jane gave her an odd little grin. "Sure, I can stay for a while." She glanced up at the sun. "We never came in until dark, but I'm not sure I can stand up much longer."

Maura stuck the key in the deadbolt and turned it. "We can just put our feet up and watch TV," she said as she swung the door open and stepped inside. "Aren't the Red Sox playing -"

"_SURPRISE!"_

She jumped back with a little scream at the unexpected chorus, and the interior lights came on before she could reach for the switch by the door. Her wide eyes took in the transformation of her living room: the 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAURA!' banner, the confetti sprinkled across the furniture, the bunches of brightly colored balloons tied to the lamps, bobbing merrily at the end of their strings. And the people: Frost and Korsak, Frankie and Tommy, Angela, and -

"Mother? I thought you were in Milan?"

"Happy birthday, darling." Constance gave her daughter a warm smile as she stepped forward to hug her. "I was, but Jane called me last week to invite me to the party. I thought it was a marvelous idea, so I booked a flight. The installation can speak for itself for a couple of days; that's the purpose of art, isn't it?"

"That...makes sense," Maura said dazedly, glancing back at Jane, who gave her another little grin and mouthed, _Gotcha_. "I'm so glad that you're here! When did you arrive?"

"This morning," Constance replied. "I've been helping Angela get things set up for the party." She gestured around at the decorations, her smile turning a bit shy. "It's been...quite fun, actually."

And then Angela was there, wrapping her in an enthusiastic hug of her own. "Happy birthday, sweetie!" she gushed. "I hope Janie didn't tire you out too much or ruin your appetite! We've got a cake from Gino's and ice cream and the raspberry sherbet punch that Janie always liked."

Maura almost didn't hear the last part, her attention focused on the pinata that was dangling from the vaulted ceiling. "Is that...Dr. Pike?"

"Nope," Jane replied promptly. "The pinata guy doesn't do custom stuff, and even if he did, it'd probably be unprofessional and childish of me to get one made that looked like Pike, but if he just _happened_ to be almost out of pinatas, and one of the last ones just _happened_ to have blonde hair, glasses and a lab coat -" She shrugged, mischief dancing in her eyes. "I had to take what I could get, right?"

"Right." Maura looked at her friend a moment longer; she was almost positive that Jane was being facetious. Why on earth would a pinata-maker have constructed a creation that looked like..._that_? And it undoubtedly was both unprofessional and childish, but - "Can I take the first swing?"

"You're the birthday girl," Jane agreed as Constance and Angela escorted Maura to the kitchen. The cake was set out on the kitchen island, surrounded by colorful plates, cups and napkins. The cake itself had bright yellow icing with equally bright red piping around the border. She cocked her head, studying the clown that adorned the top, clad only in boxer shorts, with a thermometer in his mouth, and what appeared to be tiny plastic bones pressed into the icing at various points on his body. "It's...what is it?" she asked at last.

"It's Operation!" Angela exclaimed. "Like the game! Janie and the boys loved that game, and I thought since you were a doctor..." She trailed off, looking suddenly anxious, and Maura immediately felt guilty.

"No, it's lovely," Maura assured her. "It's just that...I've never played that game."

"I sorta figured that," Jane put in, sauntering into the kitchen with an easy smile and pulling a brightly colored box from beneath the counter. "Got it covered."

* * *

"Your mother didn't let you have wine and beer at slumber parties, did she?"

"No." Jane topped off Maura's glass of pinot noir, then set the wine aside in favor of a bottle of Samuel Adams Summer Ale. The sofa had been shifted back and the coffee table moved to make room for blankets and pillows to be spread out in front of the television, and they'd changed into sleepwear: silk pajamas for Maura and a Red Sox jersey and running shorts for Jane. "But I'm declaring a special dispensation, because I prefer this to Kool-Aid." She took a long drink from the bottle and leaned back against the sofa with a satisfied groan.

Maura started to lean back beside her, paused, then reached beneath herself to retrieve the Jolly Rancher that was digging into her backside. She'd likely be finding candy in odd spots for the next few days, but she didn't mind. "I can't believe that my mother took a turn at the pinata." The sight of Constance Isles, blindfolded and laughing as she swung a broomstick at Dr. Pike's avatar, was one of the more remarkable memories in a day that had provided no shortage of them. Almost as surprising had been her accepting Angela's invitation to sleep over at the guest house rather than return to her hotel.

"I can't believe she's the one who busted it," Jane said wryly. "Not surprised that you won the Operation tournament, though," she added after a moment.

"Well, the rules are simple, and the mechanics are simply a matter of eye-hand coordination and fine motor skills," Maura replied modestly, "and the annoying buzzer does provide an effective negative reinforcement against allowing the metal of the forceps to contact the metal on the board to complete the electrical circuit." A simple concept, executed in an eye-catching and engaging manner; she could see why it had endured so well. Her gifts had consisted of similar time-tested toys: a Magic 8-Ball from Jane ("To help you with guessing."), an Etch-A-Sketch from Frost and Korsak, a Slinky from Frankie and Tommy (She'd had to have Frankie's caution about not straightening it explained to her.).

"That's one way of putting it," Jane agreed, taking another pull from the bottle. "So, not too corny?" she asked after a moment, her eyes carefully turned downward and her fingers toying with the edge of a blanket. "The whole 'Rizzoli childhood in a day' thing, I mean?"

"Corny?" Maura stared at her in surprise. "Jane, this was...the best birthday of my life! What you gave me...what all of you gave me, was something that no amount of money could ever buy. You gave me yourselves, and _you_," she emphasized the word as she reached out to catch Jane's hand, waiting until dark eyes lifted to meet hers to go on, "you gave me a day that I will never forget." She threw her arms around the detective, kissing her cheek. "Thank you," she whispered.

"You're welcome," Jane replied, returning the hug. "Happy birthday, Maur."

"Very happy," Maura agreed, drawing back with a smile before she could start crying. "Now, what are we watching?"

"Three classics," Jane responded promptly, retrieving the DVD cases from the coffee table and presenting them to her. "The Goonies, Explorers and Flight of the Navigator."

* * *

It was past midnight when Constance followed Angela as she eased open the door and crept inside. All the lights were out, the only illumination from the credits that scrolled on the television screen, but Angela moved with ease, stepping over the sleeping forms of Maura and Jane and bending to retrieve two empty beer bottles, a wine glass and a half empty bottle of pinot noir, the assorted glass not so much as clinking together in her hands.

"What'd I tell ya?" Angela whispered with a knowing and affectionate smile as she made her way to the kitchen. "They didn't even make it through the second movie."

"You've done this before, I take it?" Constance asked, skirting around the blankets and pillows to join the Rizzoli matriarch at the island, contrasting her own hesitance with the other woman's confidence. She'd been in her element this evening: serving out cake, ice cream and punch along with hugs and stories of Jane's youth, all delivered without a hint of self-consciousness.

"Every year from eight to sixteen," Angela replied, lifting her eyes heavenward and genuflecting. "_Thirteen_ girls one year. I thought Frank was gonna bust a blood vessel."

Thirteen? Just the one had been a seemingly unfathomable mystery. She'd seen more, learned more about Maura in these last few hours than she had in the previous thirty years. If she hadn't been so afraid to admit that she didn't know what she was doing, what might have been possible? Listening to Angela's tales over the last few hours, stories of raising three energetic children by trial and error, seeing the end result in the boisterous but obvious love that Jane and her brothers had for each other and Angela, she couldn't help but wonder.

She stepped back toward the light from the television, studying her daughter as she'd never seen her before: sunburned cheeks, skinned knees and a smile that lingered even in sleep. "I missed so much," she murmured wistfully. "I let her miss so much."

Angela peered over her shoulder. "She turned out great," she whispered encouragingly. "Besides, not everything you missed was so wonderful. C'mon." She returned to the kitchen, snagging the pinot noir in one hand and two empty wineglasses in another, nudging Constance with a conspiratorial grin as she made her way back toward the door. "We can finish this while I tell you about the time Janie got caught 'playing doctor' with Joey Grant."

* * *

_Author's Note: And done. Thanks to all of you who have come with me on this trip down Memory Lane. I hope it was at least half as enjoyable for you as it was for me!_

_And because I forgot to mention it: Maura's story about hiding in the chickenhouse was inspired by a childhood tale from one of my heroes: Jane Goodall._


End file.
